Dezanove Estrelas

“De modo que ele seja? Acaba de partir? Somente como isso?” (“So that's it? You're just going to leave? Just like that?”) she screamed after him.

He ran hastily down the stairs, his duffel bag in hand. His face was stone cold. She had seen his face like this before. It usually warmed up after a few moments, once they have apologized to each other. But this time was different. This time neither showed any sign of backing down.

“Não posso fazê-lo mais. É demais. Necessitamos uma pausa,” (“I can't do it anymore. It's too much. We need a break,”) he said, doing everything he could to keep calm. But his tone showed he wanted to explode right then and there. He wanted to stop and punch in a wall. He wanted to break something. He was so upset.

He had reached the front door and had his hand on the door knob when her sobs and cries stopped him in his place.

“Cristiano!” with his head hung low, he did not look back at her. He stood there, waiting for her to continue. “Não parta. Por favor. Peço-o. Não faça.” (“Don't leave. Please. I am begging you. Don't.”)

He did not move his hand from the doorknob. But he lifted his head. He looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. He sighed.

“Cristiano, por favor…Amo-o.” (“Cristiano, please…I love you.”)

“Não faça,” (“Don’t”) he breathed out. She tried to tell him again, but he just yelled, “não faça!” His head whipped around, and he finally looked at her. The pain in her eyes. The tears down her cheeks. The confusion. Everything on her face…was probably echoed onto his. But he knew this was her fault. It was her fault. It is her fault. But he only believes that because he could never do wrong…at least that’s how he saw it.

“Cristiano…” she whispered. “Por favor. Necessito-o. Não posso fazer isto só.” (“Please. I need you. I can't do this alone.”)

He shook his head, “Então vá achado que põe esse interior de bebê de você. Porque não me era…” (“Then go find whoever put that baby inside of you. Because it was not me…”)

The tears continued to run. There was a small table right by the front door. He brought his right hand to his left and slipped off the band on his finger. That did it. Her heart was in two now. He opened the door forcefully and stepped outside. He reached for the doorknob again and right before he closed it he looked to her. “Tchau Camilla-Rey Verano. E tenha uma vida amável. ” (“Bye Camilla-Rey Verano. And have a nice life.”)

Camilla-Rey Verano stood emotionless. It seemed like hours she stood there just staring at the closed door. Her best friend. Her boyfriend. Her fiancée. Her unborn baby’s father. Was gone.

And she had no idea what to do.